


To Have and To Hold

by simeysgirl



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Post-Divorce, incredibly brief mention of Harry/OMC
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-15
Updated: 2016-03-15
Packaged: 2018-05-24 10:01:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6149956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simeysgirl/pseuds/simeysgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the happiest day of his life, Harry looks back at how he got there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Have and To Hold

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dracogotgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Surviving Summer](https://archiveofourown.org/works/979565) by [dracogotgame](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dracogotgame/pseuds/dracogotgame). 



> Dracogotgame, I loved reading all of your fics, but kept coming back to this one. I hope you enjoy this ♥ Thanks, as ever, go to G for being G ♥

Divorce. It was a weird thing to be thinking about on his wedding day, but Harry couldn't help it. He'd grown up thinking it was one of the worst things that could happen in the world. Aunt Petunia always seemed to think so, anyway. She thought it a friendship-ending crime and would take glee in talking nastily about it to anyone who would listen. When Mr and Mrs Perkins from number sixty-three announced their separation, she forbade Dudley from playing with David and encouraged her gossiping cronies to shun the poor woman.

So, when Ginny suggested that divorce was the next logical step, Harry was stunned and, if he was completely honest with himself, maybe even a little horrified. He wasn't to know that it was to be one of the best things to ever happen to him. He wouldn't have been so hesitant if he'd known that it would lead to him being the happiest he'd ever been. 

Looking in the mirror, Harry adjusted his bow tie and had to resist pinching himself. It had to be a dream. He couldn't be marrying the love of his life in just over an hour.

“All right, mate?” Ron asked, tapping Harry on the shoulder and bringing him out of his reverie. “And I'd leave that alone if I were you,” he said, gesturing to the bow tie. “Hermione had that perfect and to _'Draco's exacting standards'._ ”

Harry laughed, but dutifully dropped his fidgeting hands. “Everything okay out there?”

“Yep. Ginny's keeping Mum at bay for you. She said you owe her a big one.”

Harry winced. He dreaded to think what Ginny could come up with for her 'big one', but the thought of Molly fussing over him made him grimace. He loved Molly, but she was a force to be reckoned with. She'd been bad enough at his first wedding. As nice as it was to have someone mother him—and he did love it—he was nervous enough without her making it worse.

“I know,” Ron said, copying Harry's wince. “I wouldn't worry though. She just mentioned something about the summer holidays.”

It was brilliant, though, how close he still was with the family, especially Ginny. It proved what they'd talked about when the first separated. They were better as friends.

~

It wasn't an unhappy marriage, his and Ginny's. On the contrary, Harry loved Ginny a great deal, and she loved him back fiercely—it just wasn't _right._ They were good together, they just weren't happily _married._

Harry couldn't regret his marriage, though. It gave him his children, who both Harry and Ginny loved absolutely. He wouldn't give them up for the world. They did make a happy family—taking trips and spending time together. Then Lily started Hogwarts.

With no children there to keep them at home, Harry and Ginny were free to socialise whenever they wanted. Dinner, shopping, pub. They relished in it. It wasn't long before they realised they weren't doing any of these together. They had separate groups of friends: Ginny and her team mates, Harry and his workmates from the Ministry. Which meant more and more evenings spent apart. 

There was no passion between them. Harry loved his wife, but he couldn't remember the last time they'd gone to bed at the same time, let alone had sex.

To Harry's horror, he found he didn't mind. And to Harry's utter shock and—though he hated to admit it—relief, Ginny felt the same way. 

“It's just not working,” Ginny had said when it seemed they'd exhausted all talk. “I think—no, I know—we need a divorce.”

Harry wanted to disagree—wanted to tell her she was wrong—but he couldn't. She wasn't. 

“I know,” he finally said, the words catching in his throat.

~

“I've got it; you concentrate on your vows,” Ron said when there was a small knock on the door.

“Hello, Uncle Ron,” Lily said brightly, “Aunt Hermione said I could show Dad my dress.”

“And what a pretty dress it is,” Ron said, twirling her. Having his own little girl had brought out the best in Ron. Now he was as comfortable with ribbons as he was with broomsticks.

“Thank you,” she said, primly, bowing slightly. “I have to look my best on Dad's special day.”

Harry's breath caught as he listened to Lily tell Ron about how her dress matched the flowers. Yes, his daughter was beautiful, but it was her words that hit him in the heart. She was happy for him. Looking at his best friend—and former brother-in-law—talking to his daughter about his wedding to someone else as if it was a normal—and happy—occurrence, Harry felt a rush of affection.

~

After spending his formative years believing that divorce was the worst thing that could happen to a family, Harry was positively shocked to discover the opposite to be true. He was happier than ever; he felt free, as if a weight had been lifted off his chest. The family seemed happy too; no one seemed surprised by the news.

The children were—after being assured that there was no animosity between their parents—perfectly fine with the divorce. James simply wanted them to be happy, Albus wanted to know the in and outs of their future living arrangements and Lily was happy when she was told her new room could absolutely be yellow.

Harry and Ginny's friends seemed happy for them, and the Weasley's were of the opinion that not much had changed. 

Harry still smiled when he thought about his and Arthur's conversation after he and Ginny told the family.

After agreeing to talk privately, Harry had reluctantly followed Arthur into the garden. He was worried. Arthur had always treated him like one of his sons, but he was fiercely protective of Ginny. Not knowing what was going to happen, Harry steeled himself and accepted the invitation into Arthur's shed, closing the door behind him.

“Merlin, Harry,” Arthur said, patting him on the shoulder. “You look like a condemned man. I didn't mean to scare you.”

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, still unsure of what the bloody hell was going on, even if it seemed he wasn't about to be killed by his soon-to-be ex-father-in-law.

“I just wanted to talk to you without that lot,” he said, pointing at the house, “poking their noses in.”

Harry returned Arthur's smile and sat down opposite him.

“I won't pretend to know what has exactly happened between you and Ginny, but I will say that we—myself and Molly—have noticed that things haven't been right between you for a while now.”

Harry nodded, unsure if he should try and explain it.

“I also know that the past few weeks both of you seem far happier than we've seen you in a long time. What I'm trying to say is that we just want you all to be happy and if _this_ makes you happy then we will stand behind you through it. You will always have a place here, understood? Now I'm going to stop talking before I say happy again.”

Harry couldn't help it. He laughed and hugged him.

It had been obvious to everyone but Harry and Ginny that their marriage wasn't working. Well, according to Hermione, anyway.

Harry had been dreading the papers' reaction, but Hermione sorted that out. One quick call to the _Prophet_ , and one short interview—including one picture of Harry and Ginny together, post-divorce—and they were left alone.

It didn't take them long to finalise all the finer details of the divorce. Ginny was making good money from her Quidditch so it was just a matter of who got the house and where the kids went. The house was easy. Ginny loved Grimmauld Place. She'd spent years decorating the house to just how she wanted it—long gone were the house-elf heads and screaming portraits—and Harry didn't really care about it. He instead bought a new house in a nice wizarding area with a lovely park nearby.

The children were easy. Wherever they wanted to go, they'd go.

The only thing left for Harry to do was to start living his life again.

~

“Dad, Dad! What do you think, Dad?” Lily asked, twirling in front of him. “Good enough?”

“You'll do, I suppose,” Harry said, cocking his head to the side. 

“Dad!”

“Only joking, Lilypops,” Harry said, resisting the urge to ruffle her hair. “You look absolutely beautiful. Now, where are your brothers? Hope they're behaving themselves.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Don't call me that. And Draco said that Albus' hair was an _absolute disaster_ so she sent him to Gerald for him to sort it out. He said that James and Scorpius might as well get their hair done at the same time. But I really think he just wanted to keep them out of trouble and he knows Gerald can handle them.”

“Especially with those scissors,” Ron added and Lily nodded.

“Draco also said that mine was perfect, so I could go and find you.”

Harry was suddenly very relieved he hadn't ruffled her hair. Gerald was a hairdresser—a bloody good one, according to Harry's very nearly husband—and Ginny's boyfriend of the last six months. It was actually Draco who had introduced the two of them. The easiness between all of them was a far cry from the awkwardness from a couple of years before.

~

It was actually Ron who finally persuaded him that it was about time he found himself a girlfriend. Well, Ron, being Ron, didn't quite put it like that. It was more along the lines of: 'you can't keep slumming about our place in the evenings; we need some space'.

Ron wasn't wrong. Harry wasn't moping about. Far from it; he was out socialising quite often, meeting up for drinks after work and the like, but being the only singleton of the group, when his friends starting drifting home to their other halves, he'd just end up tagging along with Ron.

After talking to Ginny about it—as strange and awkward as it was—and discovering that she had already met a few men, Harry was ready to dip his toes back in, so to speak. He was also happy to note that he felt no jealousy when Ginny mentioned she'd dated. It had been a year, but he had expected to feel _something._

So, Harry dated. And no one could call it a success.

Once it was clear that Harry wanted a date, everybody and their mum wanted to set him up with someone. Even Molly wanted him to meet a 'lovely girl' from her sewing circle. Before long, Harry had a different date for what felt like every other night of the week. Not only was it exhausting—and expensive—but Harry found it a pointless exercise. He wanted to meet someone he _clicked_ with, and it just wasn't happening. 

The dates were lovely enough; he had good food, nice wine and some fascinating conversation. He even laughed with a few of them. But there was no spark, no passion. And after being married to someone who fitted better as a friend for so many years, Harry wanted— _needed_ —something more.

~

“Right, then, Lily,” Ron said, clapping his hands together. “You can go and find your mum and help her—”

“Keep Nan busy?” Lily said quickly. “On it.”

Harry laughed and accepted the kiss from his daughter. She was very much a miniature version of her mother.

“Not long now, mate,” Ron said, shutting the door. “Nervous?”

Harry gulped. Nervous wasn't the word for it. He couldn't help it. He was minutes away from getting married in front of three hundred people. He didn't think he even knew three hundred bloody people. Harry could feel himself starting to panic and needed to calm himself down.

“Yes,” Harry finally said, fiddling with his bow tie again. Seriously, puce? How is that even a colour? “Can you talk about something not wedding related, please?”

“Huh?”

“Please? Before I rip this bloody bow tie off, grab Draco and—”

“Okay, okay. Calm down.” Ron shook him gently by the shoulders. “You're going to be fine. Even though I'm not why sure Malfoy makes you happy, but he does, so it's going to be fine. You're going to have a fantastic wedding and then go off and do whatever you two do that makes you grin like an idiot for three days.” 

Ron grimaced and Harry laughed.

“Well, he does do this thing where—”

“Hey, now, you know the rules. No details about what you two get up to, and I don't tell you about the time Hermione—”

“Yes, yes, okay. And thank you.”

“What are best men for? Now I'm going to find my wife, because you look like you could do with a Hermione talk and you just sit there and think about why you're marrying that git.” 

Harry nodded his head and sat down. He really could do with seeing Hermione. She always knew what to say. She'd been the first person he talked to when he realised he liked men, after all.

~

Seamus had come over from Ireland for a visit, and after being assured that a thirty-something divorced father of three wasn't going to look out of place, Harry allowed himself to be dragged to a club.

It ended up being one of the most tiring, sweatiest, _dirtiest_ nights that Harry could ever remember having, but it was also one of the most eye-opening. Harry realised something as he danced and drank the night away.

He was turned on. Utterly, properly, turned on for the first time in his life. And it was from grinding against a well-toned blond in skin tight jeans who—he discovered after a spectacularly heated snogging session in the toilets—was called Adam.

The morning after, Harry woke up and figured he had two options. Ignore the fact that he'd discovered kissing men was as—if not more—enjoyable than kissing women, or go and talk to the one person he'd discussed the important stuff with since he was eleven.

After a week of torturing himself, Harry realised he did need to talk to someone, so he called Hermione.

Under the pretence of talking about Ron's upcoming birthday, Harry bought a few bottles of Hermione's favourite wine and invited her to dinner.

Not wanting to drag it in case he chickened out all together, Hermione had barely taken a sip of her wine before Harry blurted out, “I think I might be gay.”

In hindsight, Harry thought he should have maybe waited for her to swallow her drink before speaking.

“Sorry,” Hermione said, mopping up the spray of Chardonnay from the kitchen table. “What?” 

“Gay. Me. Maybe. Men kissing men kind of gay. Not the happy kind. Although I am happy. Do people still use gay for happy? Maybe I watch too many old films. Anyway, I—”

Hermione smiled before reaching over and taking Harry's hand. “You're babbling. Calm down. It's just me.”

Harry, not trusting himself not to start babbling again, sat back and took a gulp of wine.

“First of all,” Hermione said, squeezing his hand slightly, “no, I don't think many people use gay for happy any longer. It fell out of use in the early twentieth century, although I'm sure I heard Professor Dumbledore use it in that way a couple of times. But, anyway. Now I'm babbling.” She took another sip. “So, you think you're gay. Okay. Why is that?”

“Ikindofkissedaguyandlikedit.”

Hermione laughed. Harry wanted to take it back and run and hide. 

“Harry,” Hermione said, squeezing his hand again, “don't look so scared. I know it must have been difficult to tell me that and I apologise. I wasn't laughing at your... declaration.”

“Then...”

“I kind of already knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Well, not _knew_ that you were gay. Guessed, maybe?” 

“Hermione! How could you know? I didn't even bloody know.”

“On the bright side, Ron owes me a galleon,” she said, picking up her glass.

“What?!”

“We had a bet back in school. He said you'd never admit it.”

“Ron knows?”

“Oh, Harry.” Hermione mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'Malfoy' and laughed again.

Ignoring that, Harry pressed on. “So you think I'm gay, too?”

“You don't _have_ to be _gay_. If you absolutely _have_ to put a label on it, I'd offer bisexual. But it's okay if you are gay, you know. No one is going to judge you. It's not the same as the Muggle world. One way we're more forward, if you ask me. Why, I was talking to my cousin the other day—”

“Bisexual?” Harry said. “Huh.”

“Bisexual: sexually attracted to both men and women.”

“I know what it is,” Harry said with a sigh. “I just never thought about it before.”

“Tell me something.” Hermione said. “Do you find women attractive?”

“Of course,” Harry said gesturing to the pictures of the kids on the mantelpiece. “I had them, didn't I?”

“That means nothing. Next question: do you look at men and find them handsome? Do you do a double take if you see a particularly handsome man?”

“Of course,” Harry said. “Doesn't everyone?”

“Um, no. They don't. So,” she said, and Harry didn't like the glint in her eye, “who do you tend to picture when you masturbate?”

“Hermione!” Harry dropped his head to the tabletop. “Come on!”

“It's either you talk to me, or I go and fetch Ron. Your choice.”

“Right,” Harry said immediately, grabbing the bottle. If they were going to do this, he needed to be quite a bit less sober.

By the time they'd reached the end of the second bottle, Harry and Hermione had migrated to the sofa and Harry felt a lot more relaxed. So, he was at least bisexual, maybe gay; he didn't know for sure. After the blush-inducing recounting of his trip to the club with Seamus, Hermione patted Harry's knee and told him she'd be there for him. She just told him that he needed to talk to Ginny and the children before he started dating, but assured him that no one would be upset by his news.

~

Ginny had taken the news even better than he'd hoped. At Hermione's urging, Harry sent an owl to Ginny, asking her to come to his house for lunch the following day. 

Ginny arrived, right on time, and looking more radiant and happy than he'd ever seen her. After telling her so and taking her coat, Ginny shook her head and sat down, patting the sofa beside her.

“What's this about, Harry? I know there's nothing wrong with the kids and we just saw each other at Mum's the other day. Why did you—”

“I'm gay,” Harry said, interrupting her. “Or bisexual. I haven't figured it out yet. This is nothing to do with you, I promise. I don't regret what we did and oh, Merlin. Please say something...”

Ginny simply muttered something about Hogwarts and Malfoy before laughing to herself. “Oh, Harry,” she said, pulling him in for a hug.

~

Over dinner at Ron and Hermione's that night, Ron simply gaped at hearing the news, muttered something about 'bloody Malfoy' and fished a Galleon out of his pocket and handed it to his wife.

“That's it!” Harry said, looking between Ron and Hermione. “You're the third person to mention Malfoy. Am I missing something? Is he gay, too?”

Hermione shook her head and Ron laughed. “Oh, Harry.”

~

As with the divorce, the children seemed perfectly okay after Harry told them that he wanted to try dating men. He silently congratulated himself and Ginny on bringing up such wonderful children as he watched the three of them discussing the pros and cons of having boyfriends and girlfriends.

The rest of the family also were surprisingly fine with his announcement—Harry suspected his ex-wife had something to do with that—and his friends didn't care. As long as he found himself someone soon and stopped acting like a 'third wheel', they were happy.

Harry, after thinking about it for a long time, didn't give a flying fuck what the wider wizarding world thought of his coming out. As Harry should have suspected, Hermione was right once again, and the only change with the papers was rather than every woman he was pictured with being his new love interest, now it was every person (and once a centaur). Speculation didn't bother Harry, so he ignored it and went about his life.

After Harry's coming out, he was once again inundated with well-meaning friends and family trying to set him up. Even Ginny got in on the act—although the thought of dating his ex-wife's team mate seemed to be pushing the barrier. It was slightly better than Molly's though. Her suggestion that he 'visit Charlie' made him feel a little ill. It felt wrong. Incestuous, somehow.

Regardless, a few quiet words in everyone's ears and they all seemed to back off. Harry was a grown man. He could find his own man.

~

And he'd found Draco. 

It had been Al's birthday party. Ginny was away, so Harry had offered to host it at his house. Of course, had he known that he'd be stuck with a houseful of rowdy teenage boys, shouting and generally making a mess, he might have taken up Molly's offer of having it at the Burrow. 

As it was, he was glad he hadn't, as it was to be the turning point in his life. One by one, parents arrived to collect their children, until only Al's best friend was left. Scorpius Malfoy. The most well-mannered and polite teenager Harry had ever met. 

He'd had an owl from Draco, saying that he was stuck in work, but he could ask his mother to collect him. Thankfully, thinking back, Harry quickly replied that it wasn't necessary and that the boys were engrossed in some comics and to come by when he as able.

Ever since Al and Scorpius had become close, Harry and Draco had also become somewhat friendly. They'd moved past the polite 'Potter' and 'Malfoy' greetings, at least, and Harry had no issue with looking after his child for a little longer.

Draco turned up two hours later, still wearing his Healer's robes, thrusting a bottle of wine into Harry's hands whilst apologising profusely. 

“Don't worry,” Harry said, earnestly. “I haven't heard them. I was going to suggest Scorpius stay for the night.”

“I'm sure he'd love that,” Draco said, before calling for his son.

After assurances that it was definitely okay, the boys excitedly went about sorting spare pyjamas and toothbrushes and said goodnight. Harry smiled at their antics and held up the bottle Draco had brought.

“Wine?”

“Wine not?” Draco said, causing Harry to burst out laughing.

“Well, it is wine o'clock,” Harry said before wincing. “Nope, that's just bad. This way,” he added, ushering Draco into the kitchen.

~

They'd just had the one bottle between them that night, with Draco being exhausted from work and Harry not wanting to get too drunk—especially as he had extra children in his charge. But they'd talked a lot during that bottle—mostly about the children, before touching on safe subjects like work and family—which led to Draco extending an invitation to his place 'the next time'.

It soon became a regular thing. Either Harry or Draco would casually invite the other over, and they'd get together and talk. They'd talk about work, their children, they'd even talked about the war, albeit briefly. Even though they steered clear of the more personal subjects, Harry found he really enjoyed Draco's company and was glad to have him as a friend. 

It was on one of their evenings together—after a few too many glasses of wine—that their simple friendship turned into something else altogether. And, as was usually the case, it was Harry's runaway mouth that started it.

“Are you gay?” Harry had blurted out, causing Draco to spray wine everywhere. He really needed to start checking if people had mouthfuls before he spouted off.

“What?”

Harry winced. “Sorry,” he said quickly, reaching for some tissues and handing them over. “I didn't, um, that is...”

Harry couldn't believe it. He ruined everything with his big, fat gob. He found Draco immensely funny and loved spending time with him and now he'd blown it. Bollocks.

“It's just,” Harry began, trying to back pedal, “when I, um, came out, everyone kept...”

“Kept...” Draco prompted.

“Saying your name.”

Draco looked confused and Harry couldn't blame him in the slightest. He'd never been very good at explaining himself.

“When I told Ginny and Ron and Hermione that I _liked guys_ , they all laughed and said your name as if... Well, I don't know why. I just assumed it was because you were gay and that's why... Oh, I don't know. Can we—”

“Yes,” Draco said, thankfully interrupting his babbling. “I'm gay. As they come, actually. And damn proud of it. But I don't think that's why your friends reacted the way they did.”

“No?” It was Harry's turn to be confused.

“No. I went through the exact same thing with my friends years ago. They _assumed_ that, oh Merlin, this is embarrassing.”

“Oh, come on. Join the club.”

Draco took a sip of wine. “Okay. Because I talked about, um, you so much in school, they thought I fancied you.”

Harry sat up straighter, finding himself unable to stop his cheeks from flushing.

Draco coughed. “I expect your friends might have thought the same about you.”

“Oh.” Harry was silent for a second, before steeling himself. “And did you?”

“Think the same?” Draco said with a look of pure innocence on his face.

“Draco.”

“Harry.”

“Did you fancy me?” Harry asked, suddenly very interested in the answer.

Draco coughed again. “Did you fancy me?”

“I don't know,” Harry answered honestly. Aunt Petunia's views on divorce had nothing on Uncle Vernon's views about homosexuality, so it hadn't even entered his head to think that that was what it was.

“Oh,” Draco said quietly.

“I guess I did,” Harry finally said, thinking back to his time at Hogwarts. “I was certainly obsessed with you.”

Draco's eyebrows rose.

“Come on, Draco. You know you're an attractive man. It can't be a surprise that I might like you.” Harry couldn't believe he'd said it. He must be drunk, to be admitting such things.

“Thank you,” Draco replied, the smallest of smiles gracing his face. “And if we're being honest, yes, I did fancy you. _Do_ fancy you.”

Harry couldn't help the small gasp escaping his lips. “ _Do_ fancy me. Present tense?”

“You know you're an attractive man, Harry,” Draco said, throwing Harry's words back at him.

“So I like you and you like me. Right.” Harry smiled. “What do we do about that, then?”

Before Harry knew what was happening, Draco was leaning into him and kissing him, pushing Harry against the back of the sofa. The angle was awkward and Harry's elbow was digging into Draco's ribs, but with a few subtle shifts, they were flush together and Harry knew that finally— _finally_ —it felt right.

~

“Harry,” Hermione said, poking her head around the door. “Are you all right? Ron said you were panicking a bit.”

Harry smiled. “I was, but I'm all better now. I was just thinking about my and Draco's first kiss.”

Hermione laughed. “So you're okay? No need for a pep talk?”

Harry crossed the room in two strides before engulfing her in a hug. “No, I'm good,” he said. “Let's go get me married.”

Hermione's eyes were glistening when they finally pulled apart. “Yes, let's.”

Reaching the door to the chapel, Hermione kissed Harry on the cheek before leaving to find her seat. Another door opened, and Harry was overwhelmed at the sight of his almost-husband in his suit. Harry had to admit that puce was now his favourite colour, seeing how it looked against Draco's skin.

Stepping forward, Draco minutely adjusted Harry's bow tie and kissed him quickly on the lips.

“Scared, Potter?”

Harry laughed and resisted the urge to drag Draco back into the dressing room. He'd certainly found the passion he'd been looking for with Draco. Instead, Harry took Draco's hand and tugged him gently towards the aisle.

“You wish, Malfoy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Harry Potter belongs to JKR and the inspiration for this story comes from Dracogotgame.
> 
> * * *
> 
> The [fic link](http://hd-remix.tumblr.com/post/141094210244) and a [pull quote](http://hd-remix.tumblr.com/post/141110205145) have been cross-posted to **tumblr**. Help us promote the fest by liking and reblogging!
> 
> Comments are ♥. Leave them here or over on [LiveJournal](http://hd-remix.livejournal.com/98028.html).


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